Full Circle
by Fanatic482
Summary: Post “Phase One”; Sydney’s come full circle--And she's going through what she's had to compartmentalize to get where she is now


**Story**: Full Circle

**Author**: Steph, aka Fanatic482 (stephanie406@juno.com) 

**Disclaimer**: Alias doesn't belong to me. Neither does Sydney. All property of JJ Abrams, ABC, Bad Robot, etc

**Rating**: PG

**Spoilers/Summary**: Post "Phase One"; Sydney's come full circle

**Distribution**: Cover Me; all others please ask

**Author's Note**: Thanks to CG, Riane, Becky, Jen and Glenna for the betas! And just in case you're interested in how this came about, know this much—this was the evil Plot Bunny From Hell that hit me at 1AM as I was going to sleep. And then he disappeared because I was too lazy to climb back out of bed and scribble notes. And then he came back as I was trying to study for a test. _Evil plot bunny!_ But I think it was worth it… Read & review!

For years, out of necessity for survival, Sydney had been compartmentalizing her emotions, cramming them into little boxes. She shoved them in far corners where she could hopefully forget they could be found. In her mind's eye, she had pictured a little storage room for her boxes and had watched in astonishment as the room had filled so quickly over a relatively short amount time.

It had started simply enough—a few boxes shoved haphazardly in a corner. Over time, she'd had to straighten and organize the innocuous brown boxes into neat piles so she could cram more of them into her little room. It had once seemed like she could never have so many problems as to fill a room this size, but she soon learned she'd underestimated her life.

Floor to ceiling, corner to corner, the room had filled to capacity. She'd been tempted to "lose" the key, to leave those boxes stacked neatly and locked away, dusty and hopefully soon forgotten.

She'd had a dream, once, soon after she'd visualized her storage room. A little girl, looking much like Sydney had when she was a child, had entered Sydney's bedroom. She'd found the key where Sydney had hidden it, deep inside the left pocket of a winter coat she kept meaning to part with but never could bring herself to go through with. And this girl, with Sydney's key nestled in the palm of her open hand, had approached the bed. When her floor-length nightgown had brushed the bed-skirt ruffles, she'd carefully picked the key up and deposited it in her mouth, her fingers turning a make-believe key to her lips in the way children loved to do. She'd then whispered, "Our little secret, Sydney. No one will ever know!" In a rustle of muslim and lace, and on a trail of laughter, the girlish vision had danced out of the room, leaving Sydney gasping at the realness of the dream as she woke up tangled in her sheets.

She'd gotten up and gone to her closet, and, locating the coat from her dream, she'd checked the pocket. Of course she didn't find anything and had felt foolish for having to look in the first place. After all, it had only been a dream, no matter how realistic.

Tonight, Sydney felt the same foolishness. SD-6 was finally gone, but she kept pinching herself to convince herself that it wasn't a dream. Sloane hadn't been captured, and while the thought bothered her, she chose not to dwell on it. Instead, she showered, enjoying the beating of the hot water on her skin. She emerged to find the mirror fogged from the steam, but knew regardless that her skin was red from the scalding, an exorcising of dirt from her skin.

After she toweled off, she slipped into a comfortable pair of old, raggedy pajama pants and a tank top before settling cross-legged in the middle of her bed. She closed her eyes, tuning into her breathing until she was sufficiently relaxed. _In. Out. Deeper._ She breathed the oxygen that simultaneously soothed and calmed, while heightening her awareness to every nerve ending in her body. Finally, she conjured up the image of her secret storage room, filled with unspeakable things hidden in nondescript packaging.

It was finally time to clean out the emotional skeletons in her "closet."

The key magically found its way to her hand in the scene in her mind. On autopilot, her hand put the key in the lock, turning it until the click told her the lock had popped. The knob twisted under her fingers and the door creaked open, leaving her face to face with a wall of brown cartons of varied shapes and sizes.

Time passed, and Sydney was surprised to soon find herself standing in the middle of her storage room, empty but for her and the solitary box remaining in her hands. She could feel the sticky remainder of tears, knew that the boxes that had once filled this room had been opened, their issues dealt with accordingly, as she should have done ages ago. She'd been too frightened to face them then, she knew now—had thought that she wouldn't be able to handle the pain of the many head-on collisions. She had once thought herself to be superhuman, but had painfully found out just how human she could be. She couldn't _not_ be a part of the world she was trying so hard to save.

But she was done pretending to be a superhero, knew that she'd never really been qualified. She was just a woman alone in a plain little room with a plain, 6-sided box nestled in her hands.

She saw the flaps open, watched in awe and pain as something very real to her dropped into her open hand—her engagement ring.

Of all the things that she'd had to shove away, Danny had been the hardest. She'd loved him, once, with all of her heart and soul. The demise of SD-6, so recent she could still smell the dust and gunpowder clinging to her nostrils, was originally intended to avenge Danny's murder.

Sometimes things didn't work out like they were supposed to or how she had so carefully planned. Life continued to surprise her, and to remind her that she traveled her path alone, although she wasn't exempt from being affected by others. Somewhere along the journey, she'd truly forgotten about Danny, about the very things he'd stood for—she'd defied his memory to avenge him, and she'd lost herself in the process. She'd lost track of who she was, whom she had been, choosing instead to rejoice and embrace what she was doing simply for the pain it inflicted on the institution and man she hated so much. She'd killed the monster, yes, but she'd become one to do so.

She'd become her father in so many ways. She knew that now.

Her eyes flew open, the storage room dissipating until she saw her own familiar walls. She quickly scrambled to the side of her bed and yanked open the top drawer of her bedside table. There, buried in the corner of the drawer and in the same spot that the final box had been in her storage room, was the jewelry box with her engagement ring. Trembling fingers released the catch, opened the box, and slid the ring onto its' finger. It twinkled in the light thrown by the lamp, seemed to laugh at her tears, and reminded her of the light that she'd always found in Danny's blue eyes.

She knew, suddenly, that she'd come full circle—that she'd healed. She would be all right; she could exorcise the monster within through careful planning and action. And if tonight was anything to judge by, maybe she had someone else to move on to, to help her find herself once more. Because her storage room was empty once more, and it felt as if the weight holding her down had suddenly been lifted.

Today was a new day—bright, shiny, and full of opportunities to right her wrongs. Maybe she could finally begin living again.


End file.
